Re-Runs
by ThereIsOnlyZuul
Summary: A one-shot about the worst night of Harley Quinn s life. Rated M for sexually violent situations and language.


Hey fanfiction land, long time no see, huh? I have another Batman fanfiction for you all. This one is a really dark one about Joker and Harley Quinn. Do not read if you are sensitive to rape. Hope anyone who does stick around to read this enjoys it. No, that's not right. I don't want anyone to enjoy rape. I hope everyone who reads this takes something away from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman in anyway and this is purely a work of fiction.

* * *

Harley knew it was going to be a rough night when Joker stabbed two of his henchmen ghouls and slit another one's throat with nothing but a few quiet giggles to provoke him.

"Think it's funny do you, how I fail at everything I do? How the Batman never ceases to stop me before my amazing plans come to fruition? You think it's funny?"

"Joker, please, no! We wasn't laughing at you!" The third ghoul shouted as Joker grabbed him by his collar and held the knife under his eye, intending to pop it out of its socket no doubt. "We wasn't laughing at you!"

"What then?" Joker cried. "What's so fucking funny?" The ghoul, fearing his tongue would be removed if he opened his mouth stayed silent as he pointed to the grainy black and white television behind him. On it, an old _I Love Lucy_ episode ran, the volume down low as to not disturb Joker. "Is this the episode with the chocolate factory?" The ghoul remained silent. "Answer me fool, or lose your left eye!"

"Y-yes Sir. It's the chocolate factory one!"

Joker smiled as his eyes stayed on the screen. "Oh… how I _hate_ this episode. This is the most re-run, re-run of all time! And I hate it!" Before the ghoul could beg for his life, the knife in Joker's hand was slashed over the ghoul's throat, leaving a deep and jagged cut. Joker watched the blood pour forth before pushing him to the ground and kicking him in the face until he was long past dead, and long past recognizable, all the while shouting about why he hated the episode of _I Love Lucy_ in which Lucy and Ethel work in a chocolate factory.

Harley stood in the shadows well back from the gore and the chaos. Any ghouls with even half their sanity did the same. They murmured to themselves about Joker's awful moods lately. How he was going insane over everything that didn't go exactly his way. Some of them thought it was because of Batman. Most of them agreed it was because of Harley.

"She won't have sex with him."

"Apparently she's not a whore anymore."

"What else is she good for if Joker can't use her to fuck his anger out?"

Harley fought back tears as she left the shadows and headed towards her bedroom. It was true, she wasn't letting Joker have sex with her anymore. She had decided on this after the last time she had ended up in Arkham Asylum. Joker had kicked her out of a fourth floor window and left her for dead in the alley below. She had vowed never to see him again: to cut the madness out of her life for good. But then he had burst his way into the asylum to break her out and she fell in love all over again because she thought he loved her. On the ride back to Joker's hideout that delusion fell away as Joker tried to feel her up through her bandages in the backseat. He had pushed her down and crawled over her pulling his pants down as he pulled her hospital gown up. He didn't care that she was beaten and broken after a four-story drop – that he had purposefully caused – he didn't love her. He just wanted to get laid.

She had pushed him off of her with tears in her eyes. Her cracked ribs shot pain through her chest, her back was torn to ribbons, her left arm was broken in several places - but none of her physical injuries compared to the pain of her broken heart. Joker didn't love her. He had never loved her.

So she started saying no. It had been six months since she started saying no to him and his sexual advances because her jilted heart told her it was best this way. She said no because she was sick of all the insanity and wanted it out of her life. She said no because she didn't want to be his sex doll. Of course, if she had wanted all that, she probably should have never donned her harlequin mask and broken him out of Arkham in the first place.

When she got to the bedroom she shut and locked the door behind her so she could change out of her outfit and into regular clothes. No one had ever dared enter her and Joker's bedroom before, but Joker's ghouls were hard-core psychotics who wouldn't hesitate to violently take from Harley what they wanted, so a locked door was always better than an unlocked one. Although the irony of her already being with a hard-core psychotic was lost on Harley, that didn't mean she felt much like turning her life into a gangbang.

Screams echoed from down on the main floor of the abandoned factory that doubled as Joker's hideout and Harley shivered as she imagined what Joker was down there doing. With a knife in hand, Joker could come up with innumerable ways to cause pain to those around him. Harley was relieved she took her leave when she did.

Getting one's hopes up usually does lead to disappoint though.

It was only a moment after Harley had slipped a white tank top over her head and a pair of tight jeans over her athletic legs that the banging at the bedroom door began. "Open this door, you bitch! Open this fucking door!"

"A-a girl n-n-needs her p-privacy, Mistah J-J," Harley stuttered as she tripped over her own feet to get away from the rattling door.

"OPEN THE DOOR!"

"N-no," Harley shouted. She had found her way to the bed and had climbed in, pulling the covers up to her chin the way a frightened child might if they believed the Boogieman was at their door. Problem was that the Boogieman really was at her door and blankets weren't going to stop him from hurting her…

"Harley, I swear to God that if you do not open this door now, your suffering will be exquisite!"

"No!" Harley shouted again, a little more bravery in her voice. "Leave me alone!"

The banging stopped and Harley was nearly naïve enough to believe that Joker had gone away. _Nearly_. She was _nearly_ that naïve. The banging began again, but he wasn't banging with his fist: an axe head appeared in the upper part of the door.

It was yanked out.

Swung again. This time it hit the doorknob.

Yanked out.

Swung again. Another direct hit on the doorknob.

Harley shivered under the blankets. Another hit to the brass doorknob and it would be torn clean. The only thing protecting her from Joker's fury was that doorknob!

Yanked out.

Harley felt tears falling down her cheeks.

Swung again.

Harley screamed.

The doorknob fell from the door. It clanged across the floor before coming to a stop. Silence roared as the door slowly swung open. Joker stood in the threshold, an axe in his trembling hands, sweat dripping off of his twisted, angry face.

"Hello Harley, m'dear."

"J-J-Joker… please –"

"Please what?" Joker yelled as he threw the ax to the ground and stormed into the bedroom. He stopped at the foot of the bed, yanking the blankets away from Harley so she was left without any protection against her Boogieman. "Please what, Harley? Please… take me roughly? Please… pin me down and take what you want? Please… fuck me until I bleed? While m'dear, I don't mind if I do!"

Joker pulled the sheets and blankets completely off the bed. He jumped onto the bed, his blood-coated shoes leaving stains on the already disgusting sheets. He pulled off his jacket and threw it away. He began unbuttoning his shirt. Harley cowered away from him, bringing her legs close to her chest. Tears continued to fall from her eyes.

"Joker, don't. Please…"

"You've denied me for months! Six months I have not had sex. Why is that, Harley? Why have you stopped being a whore?" Joker pulled off his belt, tossing it down on the bed beside Harley. He undid the button of his pants and let them drop down as he too dropped down. He grabbed Harley's legs, jerking her downwards onto her back. He ripped Harley's shirt down the front and roughly grabbed her tits, digging his dirty nails into her soft flesh.

"Stop it! Fuck off, Joker! Leave me alone!" Harley's tears blurred her vision as she struggled against Joker.

"Six months since I've had any kind of _relief_. Do you know what that's like?" He grabbed her by her hair and shook her head back and forth. "You are going to be my whore again Harley! And we can do it the easy way, or the hard way!"

"Please, Joker! Stop! Leave me alone!"

"Hard way it is," he pinned Harley's arms above her head as he pulled her jeans open. She screamed loudly as he worked the tight denim down her legs. "Oh Harley, you know how screams get me off," he leaned down and roughly bit her shoulder: he drew blood in seconds. Harley screamed louder, struggled harder. Joker laughed manically as he groped roughly between her legs. "You're as dry as a pile of sawdust. Tsk, tsk, that really is going to make this unpleasant for you."

"Please don't! No please! We'll have sex! I'll let you have sex with me!"

"It's too late for that. I'm afraid I'm not taking charity this time. I'm afraid I'm not interested in re-runs. I want something new. I'm going to take what I want. And oh, the pain it will bring to you! It's nearly better than cumming myself!" Joker backhanded Harley across her tear stained face before spreading her legs with his knees and roughly thrusting into her.

Harley screamed as she had never screamed before.

* * *

How can you describe a bad dream you can't wake up from? How do you describe what it's like to feel legless drunk when you're stone cold sober?

Joker had raped Harley.

Although it was strange, Harley felt nothing while it had happened. She was numb, she had shut herself off, floated above her own body and stared down sadly. When it was happening, it didn't seem to have any immediate presence. She knew it was happening, and she knew it was real, and she knew it was scaring her to death, but she couldn't't see it at the time for what it was. It was just stuff that was happening: sounds, movement, feelings, intent. The ingredients of an event. That's all it was.

An event.

She just lived it.

It was automatic.

But now, as she was playing it over and over in her mind, as she was wiping away blood from her inner thighs, as she was crying with no relief, as she was looking back at the six months that had led her and Joker to this moment – to this rape… now it was everything. There was nothing else at all; it was the only thing in the world.

Harley had thought she was making some kind of stand against Joker – holding out on him so that he realized he wasn't the only one in charge, but it had just been another one of her own delusions. Believing he'd drop to his knees and beg for Harley to have sex with him was… wrong. Just wrong. And now, now Joker had taken away the only thing Harley could use as a weapon: her sex. He'd taken it, and now she had nothing.

It was over quickly, lasting no more than two or three minutes, but with rape, is it ever about how long it lasted? He had forced his way into her body. He had laughed as she begged him to stop. He had taken what he wanted with no regard for Harley, and she knew he could do it again… _would_ do it again. So in the end, after he had released his _tension_ into her body, she told him everything he wanted to hear. What did she have to lose? A person who's given up on the world harbors no resentment toward the person who takes her out of it.

"I'll start having sex with you again," she sobbed as he withdrew himself from her ravaged body and sat on the edge of the bed. He sat with his back curved, his head hanging low, his hands clasped tightly like he did when he was thinking. "I'll be your whore. Anytime you want me. Anywhere. I'm sorry I stopped. I'm sorry, alright? I'm so sorry. I… I just thought it would make you love me…"

"How did it feel?" Joker asked without sitting up or looking at Harley. He seemed almost… ashamed. But Joker didn't feel guilt. He had no empathy. That's what made him so psychotic. He couldn't feel shame, could he?

"My vision went… blank. Nothing but white… it was nearly… pretty. All the sounds stopped. I wanted to call someone… but you were already here, so who did I have to call? All that white that never ended. It was a world with only me… but that's not any different from normal. You've never loved me. You've only ever used me. I've always been in a world all my own because I've always believed you've loved me… I'm just a stupid girl…"

Joker stood then. He pulled on his suit quickly, not looking at Harley. He headed towards the open – or, rather – broken bedroom door. Before he stepped through the threshold he stopped. He didn't look at Harley, but he looked over his shoulder: addressed himself to her. "Just for the record, I love you. I've always loved you. I wouldn't bother to torture you if I didn't."

Harley pressed her face into her pillow and continued to sob. Despite everything that had happened, she fell asleep while she cried. She awoke hours later to discover a bouquet of roses on Joker's side of the bed. A box of chocolates under them. A diamond bracelet hidden in the chocolates.

Joker was sick. He was evil and insane and twisted. He deserved to be put down like a dog deranged with rabbis. But so did she. She was sick and evil and insane and twisted because she loved him. After everything he had ever done, she still loved him.

She sighed as she buried her face into the sickeningly sweet roses. They were beautiful but they didn't change anything: couldn't change anything because there would never be any change. Not for Harley Quinn and Joker. They would spend the rest of their lives like this, in a vicious cycle of hate and violence. They would never break free from it.

Like Lucy and Ethel, Joker and Harley were doomed to forever repeat the same storyline over and over. They would forever be nothing more than re-runs.

**THE END**


End file.
